Stroke me a Zipper
by Roadstergal
Summary: Ace Rimmer is planning Bonjella's rescue, and an old friend stops by. Slash. Set immediately before Stoke Me A Clipper.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Remember Derek Custer from Rimmerworld? Well, why shouldn't he be a hero, as well?**

The Desultory Nipple was well-known as a hangout for has-been, washed-up bad guys. Fighting, injured, or dead patrons were thrown out of its doors on a schedule one could set a clock with. Chicago gangsters in fedoras skulked in back rooms. A biker with hellfire tattoos, arms like tree trunks, and a length of broken chain snarled insults at everyone who walked in. Her boyfriend looked even meaner. Dark Sith hung moodily in the back, while Nazis spat insults at each other in German as they sat around a circular table and played poker. A Red Lectoid was trying to chat up a very nervous-looking Doctor Strangelove. The Eye of Sauron stared angrily at a beer it could not drink.

It was a place where any Space Hero would be well advised to keep a low profile and watch his back. At a corner table, Ace Rimmer did both.

He was there for the Nazis, and kept a keen eye on them. It would, he estimated, be a few hours before they got drunk enough to start their usual nightly fight over the outcome of one random game or another. He would have to wait in order to bring his plan to completion - and it was a good plan, one worth the frustration of sitting and tapping his fingers for a few hours. And so he waited, waving off the offer of a drink from the tired-looking bargirl. Dick Cheney grabbed her shirt as she walked back to the bar and demanded a refill.

As Ace settled back and pulled out a cheroot, the door jingled, announcing the arrival of another patron. The cheroot fell into Ace's lap, forgotten. The new entry winked at the insult the biker screeched at him, waved at the gangsters, then navigated his way to the dimly-lit corner where Ace sat. Ace swallowed. The vermillion-suited, wavy-haired man with the dazzling grin could only be one person. "Derek Custer, as I live and breathe!"

"Only you don't do either anymore, do yeh, Ace?" Derek replied, snorting out a giggle. Ace stood to embrace the man warmly. Yes; warm, solid, impossibly real; Derek was as large as life and twice as magnificent. Ace broke the hug after a moment and gestured for Derek to join him. Derek pulled a chair out and sat, crossing one booted ankle over the other knee. The bargirl, who had been nervous enough at the sight of one magnificent man in her place, started to hyperventilate.

"What brings you here?" Ace asked. He looked at the cheroot that had fallen to the ground, but the sticky centuries-old mess of unspeakable substances that coated the ground would not yield the slender cigar up easily. Ace gave it up as a lost cause and pulled out another one, accepting a light from Derek as the other man lit a cigarette.

"Oh, a littlea this, a littlea that." Derek sucked in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out of the corner of his mouth in a nonchalantly alluring gesture that Ace filed for future reference. "The Gizanians were beating up on the Slavarkians - you remember the Slavarkians, don't you? Lovely race, very peaceful, brew truly excellent beer. I drove the Gizanians off and told them to _stay_ out. Spent a few days on Slavarkia, but the chief's daughter wanted to get married - you know how it is, don't you?" Derek kicked Ace's boot with a knowing grin. "Then I heard that Princess Bonjella had gotten herself kidnapped again, so I dropped by. But it looks like you're on the case already, eh, Ace?"

Ace nodded. "That's right, Custer, my man. I was just waiting for those fellows over there," he indicated the Nazis with a wave of his cheroot, "to get to the drunk and argumentative stage. Then I'd get mixed up in the brawl and get captured."

Derek frowned. "You, Ace? Captured?"

"Yes. The commander loves to have his ironies, and is one of those who monologues for _ages_ before he kills you. Like the Rendarian captain, you remember him? Oh, what was his name again?" Ace waved his hand.

"Timothy," Derek replied, taking another drag.

"Yes!" Ace nodded again. "Him. Well, the commander is just like that. He won't be able to resist the irony of having the hero who came to rescue the princess shot before her eyes. But when the plane is over the camp, I'll overpower the guard, shoot the pilot, and parachute in to rescue her. I stole in before they moved her into the camp and secreted my motorbike. It will be just the kind of rescue she loves."

Derek laughed. "Oh, she does love her rescues, doesn't she?" He winked. "Does she still say she's a virgin?"

"I think she gave up on that the third time I rescued her." Ace grinned. It was good to talk with someone who _understood_, who didn't immediately try to kill him or worship him on sight. Ace sat back and looked at Derek for a moment, appreciating the man's easy grace as he turned to look at the Nazis over his shoulder. He caught Ace's eye as he turned back, and raised his eyebrows.

"It looks like they'll be a while," Derek said, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.

Ace looked over at them. They were still snarling and holding their cards close. "Probably another few hours."

"Fancy a shag?" Derek asked.

Ace thought for a moment - well, pretended to think for a moment. It was not the kind of offer a sensible human would refuse. "Don't mind if I do." They walked towards the stairway leading to the rooms above. Ace dropped his cheroot in Dick Cheney's drink.

------

It was, without doubt, the most magnificent shag that Ace had ever experienced. He could have made his holo-flightsuit vanish, but it would not exactly have been fair to the living man, who Ace had to undress manually. But Derek's stubby fingers were surprisingly swift and graceful as they undid Ace's clasps, and Ace had to hurry his peeling back of the other man's vermillion flightsuit a little more than he would have liked. He licked the beige skin underneath as it appeared, and that, at least, slowed the other man down slightly as he removed Ace's layers.

Yes, Ace was surprised that it was such a top-notch shag. He had experienced many, of course, and while some of the women had been star-struck, nervous, giggly, inexperienced, or just plain frigid, a good handful had possessed talented mouths and/or admirable control of their vaginal walls, and Ace thought that he had experienced the best life had to offer, sexually. He tried to figure out, as Derek ran an agile tongue around in his mouth, just what was so good about this encounter. Part of it might have been that Derek was expecting his Japanese-meal form of sexual stamina (or lack thereof), and seemed, indeed, to relish it, pulling out many orgasms before tending to his own pleasure. It might have been that none of the women had possessed strong brown legs that clamped his own like a vise, rocking against him; it was certain that none of them had possessed a penis, which Derek used - its way eased by spit - as if expecting Ace to like it. Ace found that, indeed, he did, and Derek's hand pulled one last, exhausting, twitching orgasm out of him as the other man finally came himself, thrusting into Ace and moaning into his ear, then lapping at that ear with his long tongue as he slid out and lay his head down on Ace's chest. They both lay there for some minutes, Ace floating on the best sort of exhaustion, enjoying the feel of Derek's breath on his chest, stroking the man's soft, thick hair.

Or maybe, Ace pondered as he felt the man's heartbeat, it was all just because the man was _Derek_, and seeing any form of Lister still living, after what he had done to his own Lister, was a blessing he had never expected to receive.

"I... should be going," Ace said, reluctantly, at last. "Heroics call, and all of that."

He felt Derek's giggle through his chest as much as he heard it. "Yeah - heroics call, and you never do." He forestalled Ace's reply with a kiss. "Don't worry - I never do, either." He stood and started to dress; Ace lay and simply watched him as he slithered into his adventuring getup.

Derek walked back over to Ace once he was fully dressed, and kissed the man on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, Ace. It's a tough universe." Ace nodded, then watched the muscles of Derek's rear move under the flightsuit as the lauded Space Hero departed the room.

Ace sighed and sat up, making the effort of will required to re-form his flightsuit. The previous Ace had been right about Derek Custer. Some part of him wanted to feel bad about the situation, but it was a very small part, and it was completely unsuccessful. No, Derek was a hell of a chap. It must have been odd for him to sleep with someone for the first time when he thought he had been doing it for the tenth or hundredth - but on the other hand, maybe he just figured the first-time uneasiness Ace always had was just a part of who the man was.

Maybe, Ace reflected, after this mission... I could see him again. Sometime.


	2. Chapter 2

"Halt, sirrah!" the guard cried, brandishing his neutron sword threateningly.

Ace ducked under the sword and grabbed the guard by the armpits, throwing him into the two remaining guards. They went down like living ninepins, clattering on the polished marble floor. Ace ran past the pile of moaning and, doubtless, highly pained guards. He pelted up the broad, velvet-covered staircase, down a corridor lit by fusion flame torches in titanium sconces, and broke down the elaborately carved syntho-wood door with his shoulder. He stumbled into the room, rubbing his suddenly very sore shoulder. He made a mental note to do that with his _foot_ the next time.

Three handmaidens who had been bathing in the porcelain tubs set around the room jumped up, squeaking, and grabbed various bits of towel and dress to hold over their nudity. They took a good look at the intruder, and the bits of covering fell to the ground again. "Oh, hello!" said one, shaking the ringlets of brown hair that cascaded over her bare shoulders and tickled pert pink nipples.

"Hello," Ace replied, rubbing his shoulder and trying to keep his gaze above their necks. "I'm looking for the kidnapped Princess Bonjella. You wouldn't happen to have seen her, would you?"

The brown-haired girl turned to exchange a look with the honey-blond girl. The latter replied, "Oh, she's been rescued already."

The brown-haired girl nodded in agreement. "Yes, just a few minutes ago."

The third girl, dark of skin and black of hair, looked Ace up and down for, he judged, the thirtieth time, and said in a deep, husky voice, "I need rescuing..."

"Oh, yes!" agreed the blond. "I do, too!"

"We all need rescuing!" added the brunette. "We hate it here!"

"It's just terrible!" confirmed the blond, walking over to Ace and running one finger up and down the fur collar on his flightsuit. "You must rescue us all, right away!"

"Erm," Ace cleared his throat loudly, feeling like the situation was getting a little bit out of his control. "Whose raiding party rescued her?" It had been _his_ job, and he felt there was a certain ethic involved in finishing it. Not that another bout of sex with Bonjella would make much difference, one way or the other. She still pretended to be a virgin, despite the fact that sex with her was like throwing a spanner down one of Red Dwarf's personnel corridors. She did have a certain talent for oral, however.

"No raiding party," the brunette replied, walking over to Ace and starting to feel his arms. "Just one fellow."

"A rather dreamy fellow in a flightsuit..." the brunette replied, her eyes unfocusing just a little as she fondled his collar.

"Not half as dreamy as you," the black-haired girl purred, taking Ace's crotch firmly in hand.

"Oh, no!" the blond replied, snapping back to the present and licking Ace's neck.

Ace sighed. There were few libido-killers as effective as annoyance, and he was annoyed at whoever this _person_ was who had beaten him to what was rightly _his_ rescue. Had the king of War World hired some twonk in a flightsuit to rescue his daughter? No, he had hired one Arnold "Ace" Rimmer, who was sharper than a hedge trimmer, thank you _very_ much! He pushed aside the fondling hands. "Right. Back to what you were doing."

The girls fell back with a harmonic chorus of "Awwww..." Ace turned, picked up the door, walked out of the room, and set the door into the jamb at a precarious angle. He then ran down the corridor in the other direction. If he could not rescue the Princess, he could bloody well kill the Evil King Mantibius. Then call it a day, and go have a drink in the D-J ship. Listen to a little Hammond Organ music, since his own organ would be unoccupied, thanks to whoever had intruded on _his_ mission.

The door to the King's bedchamber was hanging by one hinge. Ace pushed it aside. A man stood in the middle of the room, his face hidden. He was wearing a shiny vermillion flightsuit, and held the Princess Bonjella in a cradle-carry. His face was hidden because the Princess was busily necking with him rather passionately. Ace looked to the bed with resignation; sure enough, the King was lying on it with a sword sticking out of his chest, looking very, very dead.

It was a bit much. Ace drew himself to his full height and barked, "Look here!"

The man broke the kiss with Bonjella and peeked around her. _Sebastian_, Ace thought, then _Lister_, and then the man dropped Bonjella onto the ground with a _thud_ and a squeak. "Ace!" he cried, his face breaking into a broad grin. He strode the two steps between them with flair and wrapped Ace in a brotherly hug.

_Oh, smeg_, Ace thought, _I'm supposed to know this fellow._ Then he almost choked as the man ran his hands lower and squeezed Ace's buttocks in a way _his_ brothers had certainly never done.

"Look, miladdio," Ace said, weakly, "my bread isn't buttered on that..."

"Aw, you can cut that out," the other man interrupted, his grin not slipping. He jerked his head at where Bonjella lay on the ground, struggling to sort out her limbs. "_She_ doesn't care."

"Oh... well, good." Smeg it all, neither the previous Ace nor the Computer had told him anything about this. Ace felt a very Rimmerish sense of bemusement and helplessness.

"How have you been?" The other man had not let go of Ace, and Ace, for lack of anything better to do with them, put his hands on the other man's hips. "I gotta tell yeh, it's been just smegging nuts for me. Last week..." Something buzzed at about crotch-level, and Ace jerked back with a squeak.

"Oh, smeg it all." The other man pulled a small buzzing black box out of his pocket and looked at one side of it. "Emergency in Dimension 9662. You know those Degoians!" He winked. "I'll tell you what. Take the lovely Princess here back to her dad, and I'll finish this in a jiffy and meet you at the Degenerate Tavern just down the street from the royal palace. Say, three hours? Plenty of time for you, eh?" He winked again, then jumped out of the window, caught a cord that stretched from it to the ground in one hand, and slid down to a waiting red motorcycle like a garish red comet.

The Princess Bonjella watched the man leave, and then turned back to Ace, smiling wanly and blowing a lock of her disheveled hair out of her face. Ace palmed his forehead and sighed.


End file.
